rails, taking me away from the house that hadn't ever been
home.
My phone buzzed again as I puled into the parking lot of
the Manor. I flipped it open to read al three messages. Al
from Austin.
How was the movie?
Say hi to your mom for me.
I had to laugh at that. Oh, that bastard. He knew my mom
had always loved him. More than his had ever cared for
me.
And finaly, Cal me when you get home.
Chapter 14
I didn't cal Austin when I got home. I didn't cal him the
next day, or the day after that, and though I tensed every
time my phone rang, eventualy I stopped worrying. He
didn't cal me, either.
The notes arrived every few days but never on a day when
I might expect one. Only on the days I was convinced I'd
be left without instructions, a list, a command. I read each
and every one, committing them to memory before tucking
them into the slot of 114, a mailbox that had become so
familiar to me it was like stroking a lover.
You've done wel. Treat yourself to your favorite dessert.
That had been a piece of key lime pie so decadent and
rich I'd made sex noises while eating it.
You didn't return your essay in time. Clearly, discipline
means nothing to you. Don't waste my time again.
A fit body deserves appropriate clothes. Purchase yourself
an appropriate new outfit. Don't skimp on it.
A simple suit, navy blue to match my eyes but with a crisp
stripe of summer green at the hem and on the buttons of
the jacket. It was the first outfit I'd ever bought I also had
altered to fit just right. Wearing it, I felt more than
professional, I felt appropriate.
Go to the bookstore. Look at the aisle you don't normaly
browse. Find a book that looks good and buy it. Read it.
Enjoy it.
I'd picked a book on the history of movies, trivia mostly,
but also photos of stars from days past. I'd savored the
glamour and taken to wearing my hair parted and over one
eye like Lana Turner.
For days the notes had arrived in my mailbox, teling me
what to eat, what to wear, what time to go to bed and
what time to rise. I was a rat folowing a piper unseen,
maybe to the cheese nirvana, maybe to a watery grave in a
river. I couldn't tel.
I only knew that I didn't want it to stop.
I want you to be bare for me today, beneath those clothes
you bought. I want you to feel the coarseness of denim,
the roughness of wool, the sleekness of satin lining, on
